and on his worst days, a poet.
Sayfa 8 - harper yayınlarıKitabı okudu
İstatistiksel olarak genellikle önce kocalar ölürken, büyük olasılıkla benim önce ölecek olmam ne kadar tuhaf. İngilizce dili bile cinsiyetler arasında beklenen farkı ifade ediyor: Dul anlamına gelen ve koca için kullanılan widower sözcüğü, yine aynı anlama gelen ve kadın için kullanılan widow sözcüğünden türemiş. Oysa alışılmış olan, aynı sözcük cinsiyet katılarak biçimlendirildiğinde kökün eril olmasıdır. Kahraman anlamına gelen hero/heroine, şair anlamına gelen poet/poetess örneklerinde olduğu gibi. Ancak dul kelimesinde kökün dişi olması, kadınların kocalarından daha uzun süre yaşamasının istatistik açısından daha yaygın olduğunu ifade ediyor.
Sayfa 77Kitabı okudu
I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.
WALT WHITMAN, POET
---
Sevdiklerimle birlikte olmanın yeterli olduğunu öğrendim.
Sayfa 196
Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me.
Sigmund Freud
That one quote obviously :)
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
Sayfa 80Kitabı okudu
"Hür olan hiç kimse değil,can teslim etmeden ona"
-Kördüğüm, Ceza-Da poet
“When the poet Paul Valery once asked Albert Einstein if he kept a notebook to record his ideas, Einstein looked at him with mild but genuine surprise. "Oh, that's not necessary," he replied . "It's so seldom I have one.”
You see Im a real poet
My life is my poetry
My lovemaking is my legacy
My thoughts are not for sale
they're about nothing
and beautiful and for free
i wish you could get that
and love that about me
because things that can't be bought can't be evaluated
and that makes them beyond human reach.
Untouchable
Safe
Otherworldly
Unable to be deciphered or metabolized
something metaphysical
Adaption and overcome
Later this life invaded the land.
Some of our own early stock took part in that invasion. The moving equilibrium of the cells' life in our carly stock was almost literally an energy-eddy in the sea. The water of the sea conditioned it. Its energy-exchanges were based upon the sea. How if cut off from the sea could such a life exist? The Canadian biologist, Archibald Macallum, gave a reading of this riddle. The salts dissolved in our blood today are those of that long past geological epoch. Already in that sea the vertebrate creature, with many of its cells buried in the body's bulk, away from actual touch with the seawater, had evolved a system of branching tubes and a muscular pump, the heart, bringing to each buried cell a blood of salinity similar to that of the archaic sea, a substitute for that sea- water in which its cells had first arisen, to which their ways of life were adapted. When it left the sea altogether for its Odyssey on land, it had but to carry that habit of manufacture with it. It has done so. With that it has crossed mountain ranges and desert sands carrying its own medium with it. It has invaded air as well as land. It runs, and flies, and walks erect. The water of ocean itself has changed from what in that old sea it was. It has changed with the washings of rivers into it for millions of years since then. But the blood, a dynamic equilibrium, has in respect to those salts remained steady. The poet sang, with more literal truth than perhaps he knew, in- voking the sea, "the salt is lodged for ever in, my blood"s That some of them did give up that old ocean allowed the possibility of our becoming what we are
Sayfa 136Kitabı okuyor
Sylvia Plath fig analogy
For Sylvia Plath, existence was a fig tree and each possible life she could live – the happily-married one, the successful-poet one – was this sweet juicy fig, but she couldn’t get to taste the sweet juicy figs and so they just rotted right in front of her. It can drive you insane, thinking of all the other lives we don’t live.
Sayfa 109Kitabı okudu
Derviş
Șimdi gül deyince insanın aklına tuhaf şeyler geliyor. Ben mahallede iki tur dolanıp mezarlık duvarından aşınca gül mü kopardım Ayșe'ye vermek için? Değil. Ayşeler çoktur da onlara çiçekçiler de çoktur, benim işim olmaz. Hayatta bi kere çiçek taşımışlığım var, onu da poșete koydum da yürüdüm. Lisede hem de rezillik. Okulun müdürüne
